


Prelude to Awakening Part I

by die_eike



Series: Awakening Part I [1]
Category: Gargoyles (Cartoon)
Genre: 1990s, Comic adaptation, Fantasy, Gen, Homelessness, New York City, Resentment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_eike/pseuds/die_eike
Summary: Prelude to the Awakening Part I series, featuring a homeless person in New York city.Something big and heavy fell from atop the clouds, scattering the crowd that had gathered. The impact of several boulders shattered the asphalt with a deafening noise, splinters of stone flew everywhere.
Series: Awakening Part I [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008792
Kudos: 1





	Prelude to Awakening Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any property rights to the figures, magic or world I used in this fanfic, they are all Greg Weisman's and team/Disney's. I don't make money from this, it is just for fun.

Prelude - Baz

October 4th, 1994

Today’s feeble breeze was much too gentle for the winds that normally stirred the city air in early October. It did little against the stickyness, or the smell of car fumes. Baz found himself heading towards one of the gems on this island, the promise of a refuge from the dust, the noise, the air of purposeful activity. Entering the park, he wandered under the trees’ foliage, enjoying the sight of the green canopy speckled with red and brown and orange. It was one of these warm autumn days when summer was still clinging on to the season, resisting against the inevitable change that brought cold and long hours of darkness.

Baz moved even more slowly, to take it all in. Children were shouting and chasing pigeons, couples holding hands. People sat on benches, immersed in the newspapers or just enjoying the golden rays of sunlight that broke through the overcast sky. It was late afternoon and his legs were throbbing, but he could not rest just yet. He was still too close to where they had seized him last.

_Being chased away by the dogs again._

Of course, the police were only doing their job in enforcing the new regulation on beggar-free zones in the city. He knew that. They were but people making their living – as was he. But, oh, there were officers and there were _officers_. It all came down to the very person inside the uniform how one like him was treated. And today’s encounter had not been one of the lucky ones. He could really use a rest soon.

Baz entered the hustle and bustle of an avenue and to the sound of honking he crossed the street. People were busy with their everyday errands, pushing child carriers or carting shopping bags. He passed a group of tourists immersed in shooting pictures of the skyscrapers, the billboards, the yellow cabs, the passersby. Baz followed the throng, but never felt like a part of the stream; rather like a leave floating on it and scraping at the edges of the fringe.

When he turned around the corner of a big warehouse, there was someone in his way. Not able to stop his momentum fast enough, he bumped against the blonde woman. She made a startled gasp. Then her eyes narrowed and she wrinkled her nose. _’m sorry, Ma’am, my fault!_ , Baz wanted to say. But she had already continued on her way, chin up and grip tightened on her leather bag. Baz suddenly felt the heaviness in his legs getting more intense and his knees wobbled a little. A sigh escaped him. He decided to rest a bit, right here at this wide crossing where several skyscrapers towered over a broad street.

A little further away from the guarded entrance of one of the buildings, he hunched down and began setting out the tool of his trade, a simple bowl for coins. As long as he lay low, he hoped, he would be tolerated by those doormen. At least for a little while. Anyways, he was sure that the panhandling would not be very good around here. The buildings were too high, too clean, too modern. This was a wealthy area – not the right place to get some coin. It was those people closest to his own station who would give freely from the little they owned. But as he needed the rest anyways, he could try his luck. Baz jingled his bowl of coins, trying to make eye contact with a man in suit rushing past.

He kept watching as the sun set over the busy crowd, lengthening the shadows which deepened into finally swallowing the smaller lanes. Not his corner, of course, with its street lamps and neon signs spilling their light. Suddenly, there was an unexpected and promising > _ding_ <. Something had dropped into his bowl. Baz fumbled, his fingertips touched the item and he drew it closer to his eyes. _A stone?_

It was a few inches long and flat, rather a shard than a stone, the form reminding him of an oversized piece of eggshell. The texture on the shard’s surface was strange in a way he couldn’t explain. But apart from that, it was just ordinary gravel. Rubbish. He flicked the piece away and searched his vicinity. But none of the passersby was close. Baz swallowed hard. There was a lump in his throat. He balled his fist around the brown paper bag he kept in his coat, drew the liquor out and took a good long sip.

He would keep calm. It was nothing, a harmless joke, a careless doing. Something he was used to, and that meant nothing to him.

Baz felt that the weather was about to change. The wind was growing colder and picking up. Maybe it would rain. It would soon be time to move on. He sighed and closed his eyes.

He must have drowsed off, because a sudden bang startled him to wakefulness. His vision was blurry, his eyes were feeling thick and swollen as he tried to blink sleep away. When he gained consciousness, there were explosions in the sky.

“What...?”

Slowly, carefully, Baz shifted into an upright position. The usually uniformly flowing throng of shopping-bag and briefcase carriers had come to a halt, people were gazing up, transfixed. The clouds atop him came alight with flickering orange and red, and then, again, loud cracking sounded and a series of rattles echoed down to the streets.

Gunfire, Baz was sure. Trouble. _Time to get out of here, Bazza._ He groped for his coins.

That was when the screaming started. Something big and heavy fell from atop the clouds, scattering the crowd that had gathered. The impact of several boulders shattered the asphalt with a deafening noise, splinters of stone flew everywhere. Baz stood, one hand clutching his coins, the other in front of his face, and blinked at the sight of the rubble that had nearly buried several men in business suits just a second ago. People were shouting and running.

_Get out of here, Baz._

As fast as he could, coins spilling, he hobbled down the sidewalk. There was a whooshing sound and a rock smashed into the ground right beside him. Heart pounding wildly, Baz made for the other side of the street. A screeching noise, then he was blinded by car lights. Without thinking, legs trembling, Baz jumped. He landed hard on the walkway. Pain shot through his shoulder and hip. Choking and coughing, he rolled, turned and looked back to the street. Rubble pattered down from the sky.

The cab that had nearly got him swerved a massive falling rock, only to crash head-on into an even bigger boulder lodged into the middle of the street. The cabbie and his passenger fled the smashed car; and not a moment too soon. A piece of steel beam neatly speared the car roof.

Over the explosions, the shouting and screaming, Baz could now hear sirens approaching.

_The dogs are coming._

He forced his body to obey and fled.


End file.
